Wee Tom Tig was a favourite
With all his mates at school
Though he’d laugh when tripped, and grin when nipped
Tom was not just a fool.
Tom was not bright; Tom would not fight
And much he was knocked about.
If his cap or pen got lost he’d grin
And say he’d do without.
Though often switched he never mitched
And though the cruel cane
Would cloud awhile his sunny smile
‘Twould soon break out again.
At last Tom Tig grew far too big
To sit in the wee school desks
So he bade good-by with a painless sigh
To teachers and school tasks.
The old school clock ticked slower then
And the old school grimmer grew
And the sun in the sky grew dimmer when
Tom Tig bade school adieu.
For him unfurled then spread the world
And the world just then looked grand
But Tom loved home and would not roam
Far from his own townland.
He laughed at us and we laughed at him
And we all laughed together
Great fun was he but sad were we
When he reached the end of his tether.
They came to his wake from near and far
And their tears would turn a mill
But all would swear who saw him there
That Tom was smiling still.
MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass,
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
We’ve songs that scare and songs that scoff
And songs that set us sighing
Now sing us one to make us laugh
And send waist buttons flying.
Since laughter cures a lot of ills,
Lets laugh till our sides get sore
Laughter is cheaper and better than pills
You buy in a chemist’s store.
We’ve tears enough in the world today
And fears enough in the offing
A whiff and a puff drive clouds away;
Give us a dose of laughing.
Tune your harp to the skylark’s lilt
For larks to heaven belong.
‘Tis useless crying o’er milk that’s spilt,
Sing us a merry song.
Sing for a change a song of joy
That turns our grief to gladness
And a sad old man to a bright young boy,
We’re sick of songs of sadness.
MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass,
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
Footnote by P.D. : –
Some philosopher once said “I think therefore I am” – in my father’s case, “He wrote therefore He was”. These are some of the memories I have of the father I knew at home years ago and the father I renew through his poems today.
I take a stroll among my flowers of memory.
The door I close upon the present with its woes and joys.
I wander on and on.
To fields far off and years long gone;
Through many a gate and many a door.
I pass where oft’ I passed of yore.
And on and on through scenes that smiled.
Upon me when I was a child
The winds of recollection raise.
The curtain o’er departing days.
Down boreens of the past awhile
I chase a face and haunting smile.
An unforgotten form I greet.
With fond caress and kisses sweet
But there alas were tear-drops too.
Thus, olden friendships I renew
Hurrying here, delaying there.
For something dear or sweet or fair.
Thus pictures come; thus pictures pass –
Like sun and shadow o’er the grass.
MICHAEL MULLIN, ‘The Bard of Foremass,
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.
Won 7/6 -2nd place